


Anchorage

by Govi



Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-03
Updated: 2010-03-03
Packaged: 2017-10-07 16:41:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/67030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Govi/pseuds/Govi





	Anchorage

He always had people around him, he was never alone. Still he felt so lonesome. That's what made him decide to sail out on his own, to find him self again.

It was on the third day, that he discovered the dinghy. He grabbed his binoculars to have a closer look. Still too far away to see clearly, but he could spot something blue on the bottom of the boat, a faintly human form.

15 minutes later he had dropped his anchor, after he managed to drag in the dinghy with his boat hook. The man in it was still alive, and soaking wet. Sean stepped over on the other boat and lifted the man over his shoulder. Precariously trying to hold his balance he managed to climb back on board of his ship.

He dropped the man carefully on the deck, realizing he needed to get him out of his wet clothes. He stripped him right there, and then carried the naked, surprisingly lithe body downstairs. In the small cabin he more or less rubbed the man dry. There suddenly was a hitching of breath and he looked into pale eyes.

The man tried to speak, but nothing but a dry croak came out of his mouth. Sean made a soothing sound, holding the man up with one arm, while he tried to turn the couch into a bed. Finally he could let the man lie down, and dressed him in his old sweatpants and sweater. Then he pulled the blankets over him.

All this time the pale eyes never left his face, and now the man tried to speak again. Sean fetched a bottle of water from the small fridge, and carefully gave him a few sips of water. This time the man managed to speak, but the language was alien to Sean, and he just shook his head. The stranger reached out and grabbed his hand, bringing it to his chest.

Sean smiled at him. "It's okay mate. Now just try to take some rest, while I try and do something about your face."

The man pointed with a long finger at himself. "Viggo," he said.

"I am Sean."

The poor guy's face was red with sunburn, but Sean had seen worse, and knew the man – Viggo - wasn't as fair skinned as he, so it wouldn't be too bad. He applied cooling gel on the reddened skin, waited till the pale eyes closed, and then got back on deck to think.

He knew very well where "Viggo" came from, and he knew what he ought to do. Even though his two week holiday had barely begun he should sail back home immediately and hand Viggo over to the authorities.

Only.. he knew what would happen then, he had seen it a thousand times before. They would lock him up in one of those prisoner camps, and finally sent him together with all the others back to his country. The country he had fled from in the first place, and not without a very solid reason.

Sean didn't like politics, had always kept far from it, and had closed his eyes for the refugee problem. But now he couldn't, now this man was practically delivered to him. This man with those amazing eyes.

On the other hand, what could be done ? There was no other option but going downstairs, call the coast guard over the radio, and explain the situation he was in. They would tell him to sail home, and hand over the man. He sighed and got up reluctantly.

Viggo was still asleep and Sean just stood beside the bed for a while, watching that strange, but beautiful face, the strong features softened in sleep. Again he sighed, then turned around to switch on the radio.

As soon as the tinned voices filled the cabin, Viggo woke up with a startled cry. Sean turned around to look at him. Viggo didn't speak, he just looked at Sean pleadingly. They stared at each other for a while, and then Sean slowly stretched out his hand and turned the radio off.

Later that day Sean made them both soup for lunch and they ate in silence. He tried to not think too much about the whole situation, there was time enough to decide later on what to do.

It was hard to communicate, until Sean remembered his sketchbook and pencils. He made a sketch of the boat, his fishing gear, and the sun, trying to explain his holiday fishing trip. The drawing he made next, his office desk, trying to show his everyday job wasn't very good, but clear. Viggo followed every movement of his fingers and nodded enthusiastically.

When it was Viggo's turn, he sketched an easel with a few lines of his pencil. So he was an artist, and Sean was not surprised at all. His drawings told tales of strange world, and it was fascinating.

They spent a large part of the day together in a companionable silence, communicating via paper and pencil. Sean – who had been so eager to leave all behind him for two weeks, who had so much longed to be on his own – was amazed how good it felt to have this man around him.

As there was only one bed they shared it that night, and there was nothing awkward about it. Instead, Sean felt strangely soothed listening to Viggo's even breathing as he slept.

Though still very warm, the next day brought clouds, allowing Viggo to sit on deck. They sat next to each other, their shoulders brushing, throwing out their fishing rods. They worked hard together trying to haul in a very heavy, desperately struggling tuna until they were both soaked with the splashing salt water. They gave up, laughing while the sudden wind played around them and the tuna made it's way into escape.

Every thought Sean had ever had about handing Viggo over had completely disappeared, and he refused to think about it, simply enjoying this new, easy bond.

Later in the cabin they shed their wet clothes. Viggo's eyes were dark blue now, no longer pale, and demanding. It seemed only natural when he grabbed Sean's hand and licked the salt from the skin up to Sean's elbow, his tongue tickling, sparkling a small fire deep inside Sean's belly. Only natural, perhaps even inevitable, that first kiss that left them both breathless and needing.

Viggo pushed him down on the bed, his touch gentle but firm, licking sweat and salt and sudden tears from Sean's trembling body. Sean looked up at the strong body, hovering above him like Viggo had grown in the last minutes. Fear, mingled with lust and pain, than resulting in a wild ecstasy, as Viggo took him, stroked him from within, until Sean cried out in need.

Never before had he felt like this, his mind battling with his body, and willingly losing. His shouts wordless, but Viggo still answering to them. Never before.

Afterwards he lay down exhausted, faintly aware of large hands, cradling him, soothing him. Viggo's voice, speaking of wondrous and amazing things in a language he could easily understand now. And Sean slept, slept better than he had done in years, being held, being loved. Safe.

 

*^*^*^*^*^*^*^

 

He wakes up slowly, his mind and body in harmony, but alone. He stepped out of bed naked, there's no shame in him anymore. On deck there's no sign of his lover, no sign of Viggo.

Two hours later he's staring out over the sea, the boat thoroughly searched. Nothing is there, not even the very wet clothes Sean stripped of his body and dropped on the floor next to the bed, Those clothes are in his drawer, perfectly dry, and so are the clothes he gave Viggo to wear.

His brain tells him he must have been overworked, it must all have been an illusion, a wonderful glorious daydream. His body refuses, his nose catching Viggo's scent in his old sweater, the one he's wearing for comfort now. His body refuses, because it aches in a sweet way in unfamiliar places. His body knows.

A ghost, a product of his imagination, or something else, something more ?

He had sailed out to find himself and he had, in an amazing, unexpected way.

He opens the bottle of champagne he brought on a whim and drinks half of it, offering a silent toast to the skies.

Somewhere, at this moment in time, someone is celebrating with him. A birthday, a birth, a new love.


End file.
